


When in the Senate...

by Hinotori



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, M/M, mentioned Anidala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26082610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinotori/pseuds/Hinotori
Summary: Palpatine knows Anakin's secrets and his silence has a price.
Relationships: Sheev Palpatine/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	When in the Senate...

**Author's Note:**

> This was started five years ago fuck me. It was A Whole Thing so might finish the rest and add it here
> 
> Ty Val for enabling me 
> 
> Everyone else - I'm sorry

“You want this, remember?” 

  
The words resonate in Anakin's head and crawl down his spine, wedging themselves somewhere deep in his core. He doesn’t remember wanting this, not really. But he is here, and he’s doing it, so he tries not to dwell on the other man’s question. It’s not like he could answer it, anyway. 

  
The light coming in through the viewpoint has changed since his arrival at the office, now stroking his face with fiery orange and hazy pink. It manages to warm just the left side of his face, the right obscured in his host’s shadow, and the contrasting sensations are a most welcome distraction.  
A careful hand brushes his hair out of his eyes and tucks it behind his ear. 

  
“You, the worst of the Jedi, yes?” Palpatine’s voice is filled with what sounds like goodhearted humor. Anakin refuses to look up. He knows what he’ll find – the Chancellor leaning casually on his left hand, completely unfazed, gaze cast downwards, swallowing him. The bony fingers tangle in his hair, tugging and urging him closer. He makes a small sound of protest, but yields just the same.   
It’s taking all the self-control he doesn’t have to not just stand up and leave. A quick reminder of why he’s here, on his knees, the Chancellor’s cock throbbing lazily on his tongue, annihilates that urge completely. Almost. Anakin still considers it briefly, the temptation of biting and doing away with this man washing over him. Honestly, it's his own fault that this has wound up happening - he'd gotten caught, seen, and sure, he's always known there would be repricussions but not...like these.

  
As if he’s read his mind, Palpatine clicks his tongue.   
“Are you never satisfied? First you disregard the Jedi Order’s principles, then you corrupt young Senator Amidala.” Something forces Anakin to tilt his head up. He tries to not think about what he looks like as he glares - disheveled and angry, saliva ungracefully trickling down his chin and cheeks burning with humiliation. He wants to bite out a retort, but speaking with his mouth this full would only worsen his already wounded image. Just to spite him, the saliva that's built up spills out the corner of his mouth in an ungraceful glob. Palpatine's eyes hold no amusement as he produces a handkerchief and goes to dab at his chin, as if cleaning a toddler who's made a mess while eating. To him, the situation is probably not much different, Anakin figures. The Chancellor holds his chin between two fingertips for a long moment, feeling up his gums and teeth through flesh and fabric. 

  
There must be more anger in his eyes than he'd realized, because the man slumps back in his chair and regards him coldly "Do you want to bark at me, boy?" In truth, he'd rather bite than bark right now. "Answer me." He shakes his head, the cock awkwardly bobbing in his mouth as he does. The gesture must not be satisfying, as suddenly there's a hand tangled in his hair, tugging as if at a weed in his otherwise perfectly cared for garden. 

  
The way they'd ended up like this still eludes Anakin. He remembers being summoned to the man's office, sure, but for all the wine drunkeness he feels, he does not recall drinking anything at all. Yet he'd leaned in for a kiss on his own accord after just one look into those blue eyes that have been edging on yellow -yellow?- from the start of this endeavor. He'd had to nearly double over to accomodate Palpatine's much smaller frame, a bow befitting a servant. The feeling of submission had almost been enough to snap him out of whatever trance he'd fallen in to, but the clever tongue sliding in his mouth had brought him right back under. There's something ritualistic about the act, a strange familliarity to the lull of comfort creeping up Anakin's spine. 

  
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he should be resisting, refusing, or at the very least feeling wrong. He's had his fair share of sneaking about with Padme, stealing secret kisses and sliding eager fingers under her dress at any second the world would spare them. And all of it always left him anxious, made him rush - there would be consequences if they were caught. But now, as if this was fine by all the Galaxy's standards, he's calm. Content. Willing. 

  
The Force twingles with something akin to distress in his fingertips, false hands creeping over his thighs and around his throat, playing with his hair and his cock through his pants. He cannot fathom whether the phantom hands are really there, but they're menacingly and mercilessly caressing him with soft skin and sharp nails. When a claw scrapes the sensitive flesh connecting to his metal arm he gasps, shudders, leans into the palm resting on top of his head. Palpatine's amused chuckle sparks new embarrassment and anger in him, but the hands soothe it all down into an eagerness to please, which coils around his pelvis and spreads into every pulsating nerve of his body. 

  
Anakin does his very best after that, clumsy and inexperienced as he might be at this particular form of rule-breaking. He remembers things he'd wanted to do for Obi-Wan when they'd both been younger (or things Obi-Wan might do him now), tries to employ tricks that Padme had practiced on him. 

  
"Does the young queen service you well, Jedi?" Palpatine taunts and Anakin's ears burn. He keeps working, determined to at least extract a sound out of the other man by the end of it. But the reaction he seeks never comes. Even when his head is yanked back sharply and two streaks of cum hit his cheek, there is nothing. He looks up, defiantly, and is met with a bored stare. As he blinks to chase away the hands that are still smothering him with affection, Palpatine's presence is gone. Anakin finds him by the window, gazing at the dusk settling over Coruscant.

  
"It's done. May I go, Chancellor?" He asks as he stands, keeping his voice as steady as he can manage. The handkerchief lies forgotten on chair and he uses it to clean his face. No dismissal comes for a minute, then two. He sighs loudly to make a point and turns to leave. Just as he presses the button to open the sliding doors, he hears 'I'll await your return tomorrow eagerly'. Whether it'd been said aloud or in his head, he cannot discern. As the door closes behind him, he feels a posessive gaze boring into his back. He does not turn. 

  
A creeping feeling tells him that he will be back.


End file.
